Five
by division-ten
Summary: Ratchet has nightmares. Anxiety. PTSD. He knows his home is safe, except when it's not.


Ratchet stirred. Froze.

He didn't know how long it would be until he'd be able to wake up without immediately trying to strangle Talwyn.

PTSD had hit him hard and fast.

When your wife needs to wear a thick neck brace to bed to prevent being choked to death, well…

Ratchet sighed and settled into the sheets. Smell helped. Smell helped a **_lot_** , as his fur smoothed down, if only a little.

Talwyn didn't like sleeping without a shower first, but she took going to bed sweaty… her scent mixed in with Ratchet's own from the day had worked wonders in telling Ratchet's subconscious that he was safe and warm. That the person next to him was warm, soft, kind, and absolutely not about to murder him with a railgun.

He still tensed up something awful, however. He could feel his brain and body going into over-

Oh.

Ratchet's eyes went from terror to half-lid in an instant, as Talwyn reached out to their nightstand, grabbed a bag clip, and pulled on Ratchet' scruff, applying it with the grace of someone who knew exactly where the snooze button on their alarm clock was located.

Ratchet was blissfully limp in an instant.

They tried sleeping that way, they did, but Ratchet couldn't actually fall asleep in the mimicry of a Lombax infant-carry. He was awake, just with every muscle in his body softened to gelatin.

No **_wonder_** Clank kept his head right there. Achilles heel nothing.

"Morning," Talwyn said to him, far off and hazy. He felt his tongue leaking out of his mouth by a hair, dribbling drool onto the pillow.

Ratchet grunted as best he could in reply, and Talwyn slowly removed the clip from his neck. Normality returned almost immediately.

"Thanks," he replied, once he had use of his faculties again. "It's only about a three this morning."

A three. A three meant he might have had nightmares, but all he remembered when he woke was the pit in his gut. A three meant he'd recognized Talwyn as Talwyn when he woke, and was able to stop his brain from reaching out to grab.

A zero was his life before Tachyon, before Drek- not necessarily before Nefarious as the two of them had slowly worked together to get rid of their own respective insecurities. To think the robot he'd once tried to blast with a RYNO was now consistently calling the Apogee household to chat at 11:25 PM each night- no matter what each was doing unless they were in the hospital/mechanic's, and even then, they'd tried from their gurneys if they could.

Ratchet hasn't yet had a zero on wake. But he's getting more threes and twos now. Hasn't had anything over a seven in months. Over an eight, and Talwyn used to just leave the bag clip on him for a few hours, alone with Clank to feed and keep an eye on him, until he'd calmed down enough to be safe to be around. Clank got his share of broken wrists and shattered servos, but he was an easy fix. Sometimes he even broke himself for Ratchet to fix- another oddly quick way of bringing Ratchet back.

Routine helped. Talwyn helped. Clank helped.

Hell, even Qwark and Nefarious helped, Orvus save him.

Ratchet heard Velcro detaching, wincing, before Talwyn rolled closer next to him. His tail twitched, and she curled around it with her own, rubbing its pointed tip into his fur.

"Let's try breathing together," she said quietly, watching his ears settle. She grabbed him gently but firmly around his torso, rolling them both until his back was on her stomach on top of her in bed.

"Eyes shut, and listen."

Ratchet did as commanded, stilling his tail and relaxing into his wife's greasy, sweaty scent, listening to their heartbeats and soaking in her body heat. His head lay on her neck, ears flopped around it on each side. She giggled, and pulled him closer.

"Just breathe," she whispered, and moved a hand up to just under his chin, stroking him from the neck down to his belly button, ruffling the thicker fur on his chest. She lifted her hand, and Ratchet and Talwyn breathed in together and held the breath, placing her hand again on his neck and petting him again, both breathing out when she reached his stomach. And again, and again.

His tail had stilled completely.

She sat up, lifting up both of them with the motion, and grabbed the bag clip again, paralyzing Ratchet with a light snap as it squeezed his scruff. Immediately, his weight fell on her. She adjusted, listening to him maintain his breating, and slowly massaged his scalp, feeling the short velvet-like fur between her fingers, his head lolling ever so slightly to the left. She gave him another gentle hug, removed the clip, and waited for Ratchet to come back to life.

He turned and faced her.

"Think I'm ready for today." He scooped Talwyn in his arms, rubbing his muzzle on her neck before lightly pecking her the best he could on the cheek. "You're too good to me."

"You're not the only one who needs this, Ratchet."

Talwyn sighed and smiled lightly. She'd been a five that morning herself.


End file.
